


Without You, I'll Never Be Home

by blipintiime, cxptained



Series: I Don't Have To Live Without You Anymore [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Air Force, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Coming of Age, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23261707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blipintiime/pseuds/blipintiime, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxptained/pseuds/cxptained
Summary: "You’re supposed to keep your head down on the first day of school. Feel out the environment; get a good gauge for how the pecking order works around here. But if we’re being honest, keeping his head down has never been one of Jack’s skills in life. He’s loud and proud and unafraid to let the world know that he exists. And really? It’s not steered him wrong yet. Jack has never found it difficult to make friends in this world – or at the very least, turn heads in his direction.It’s the ass, he says. It’s a good ass. People want to stare at it.However, this might just take the biscuit for the biggest scene he’s caused on a first day. Out of all the schools he has attended over the years, he’s never punched someone in the face within three hours of being there."When Jack's family gets deployed in Wales, he quickly finds himself entangled within the life of one Ianto Jones. It's surprising what a simple act of kindness can lead to and what path you find yourself taking. All Jack and Ianto learn rather early on, is that whatever happens, they'll be taking it together. Janto Domestic!AU part of a 3 fic series, starting here: Highschool. Tags to be added.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Owen Harper/Toshiko Sato
Series: I Don't Have To Live Without You Anymore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672591
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	Without You, I'll Never Be Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This domestic AU mine and blipintiime's baby. We both RP as Jack and Ianto on Tumblr - our URLs are our account names on here - and we've turned our fully developed AU into a complete narrative story! It's been a fun process!
> 
> This fic is 1 of 3 because it was so long it had to literally be a trilogy... 
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading about it as much as she and I enjoyed creating it!

_“Have a good first day, stay out of trouble, and I love you.”_

“Sorry, mom.” Jack murmurs beneath his breath. His newly bought jumper is abandoned on the canteen ground, his pristine white shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows. And a boy, who’s nose is bleeding profusely… held tight in his grip. “You’ll understand why.”

You’re supposed to keep your head down on the first day of school. Feel out the environment; get a good gauge for how the pecking order works around here. But if we’re being honest, keeping his head down has never been one of Jack’s skills in life. He’s loud and proud and unafraid to let the world know that he exists. And really? It’s not steered him wrong yet. Jack has never found it difficult to make friends in this world – or at the very least, turn heads in his direction.

It’s the ass, he says. It’s a good ass. People want to stare at it.

However, this might just take the biscuit for the biggest scene he’s caused on a first day. Out of all the schools he has attended over the years, he’s never _punched someone in the face_ within three hours of being there.

Jack Harkness has been to more than his fair share of schools. He’s experienced the American system and the English, jumping from place to place. With his father, Franklin, a military man and moved from base to base, his family had been towed along accordingly. Jack had found he didn’t quite mind so much. Travelling was exciting and perhaps half the reason his people skills had developed quite so much as they did.

And Wales was something new to conquer in that department. His thick American accent was already catching people’s attention when he spoke up that morning in class and there’s something inherently intriguing about him, isn’t there?

“You! Release that boy immediately!”

Oh, yes. _That’s_ what he was doing.

“If I hear that word come out of your mouth ever again, I’ll do a lot worse than break your nose.” Jack threatens, his voice a low and angry growl. His fingers are wrapped around the kid’s collar, keeping him hovering just inches above the ground with his fist still raised in a second threat of physical attack. There’s a look in his eye that nobody should quite trust.

Well, nobody except the student he’s so gallantly defending.

“I said release him!”

Jack’s hand finally releases the kid who drops back down to the tiled canteen floor with a terrified expression. Looking up, Jack finds a teacher he’s yet to be acquainted with hurrying to the scene – heels clicking in her haste. He rolls his eyes and straightens up, placing himself protectively between the student and the verbal attacker. Moments later there is a bright grin across his face as he turns to the authoritative figure, hands clasping together.

“Oh! Good!” Jack says, “What’s this school’s policy on homophobia? I’m hoping a good one but I won’t hold my breath.”

“Is this true? Was he harassing you?” She questions and, out of the corner of his eye, Jack sees him nod. The teacher lets out a sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “Come on, up onto your feet.” She trills.

Jack watches as the kid stumbles up with very little grace. He can’t help the small smirk that finds its way into his expression as blood drips from between the guy’s nose and his palm. He deserved that, broken nose.

“Detention, Michael.” The teacher declares once he’s reacquainted his feet with the ground. “For verbal harassment. _Again._ ” She then turns to face the new boy, she doesn’t know his name. “And detention for…”

“Harkness.” He answers simply, arms folded over his chest. “Jack Harkness.”

“Detention for physically attacking another student. Lunchtime tomorrow. We don’t tolerate that sort of behaviour in this school, Jack.” She continues to reprimand before taking the boy apparently known as Michael by the arm and into the direction of the school nurse.

Jack lets out a small scoff of a laugh as they go. Detention was certainly worth it.

“Erm, thanks for that.” Welsh tones speak uncertainly and Jack’s eyes light up in such a way he didn’t even expect.

Turning on the spot to face his fellow student; it’s clear he has a flare for the dramatics; black shoes squeaking against the tile as he spins. Finally, he gets a proper look at the one he had chosen to protect. The kid stoops briefly to pick up the rucksack he’d dropped moments before Jack swooped in, hand running through dark hair that had once been immaculate but now showed signs of the slight stress this whole thing had caused.

“Not a problem,” Jack responds with a flashed smile among a tone of quite clear flirtation. The other kid is cute, adorable in a way with his Star Wars lunchbox that had dropped from his rucksack and onto the floor.

He crouches too now, picking up a stray apple that’s rolled in his direction.

“Does he give you trouble often, Skywalker?” Jack asks, handsome features that still hold the essence of a smirk is hidden now, behind genuine concern that reaches his eyes.

Jack has seen this situation before at almost every single school he has attended, no matter the nationality. Students like Skywalker, cruelly picked out for no discernible reason and chosen to have their lives made hell.

It’s the perfected faux indifference that Jack can spot. The keep walking mentality. Wait for a teacher to turn the corner and the ones who are relentless in their teasing will scatter. But this time, a teacher didn’t come quick enough and Jack Harkness came first.

Faced with the image of another student, with slurs being yelled in his face and hand all too tightly gripped on his shoulder. As an arm winds back into a position for a stone-cold punch to the gut, Jack had found himself (not for the first time in his life) slipping himself between student and bully.

Smiling at the younger boy with curls to his locks that are far too cute for his own, Jack gets the feeling it won’t be the last time he stands between the Skywalker and a threat.

“Just some twat who _apparently_ decided I’m an easy target. I--” The kid trails off and Jack watches his eyes dart to the merchandise he carts his lunch around in, clearly having just clocked the nickname he’s already been given. “Erm – ignorin’ him usually leads to him gettin’ too bored to continue.” He says.

“But not always…” Jack adds on with a sense of knowing behind those words. He was always a little too hot-headed to be able to ignore the injustice for more than two seconds. 

There’s a silence between them before Skywalker clears his throat suddenly and his hand reaches out for apple in Jack’s grasp. Jack straightens up and hands it back without much thought, his thoughts focused solely on the way the younger kid had looked at him. The American student has been turning heads all day. He has good looks, he’s not ashamed to be proud of them or his body but nobody has looked at him quite like _that_ yet today.

Jack smiles a little, chuckling at the awkwardness this kid exudes. He takes a moment to reach other and smooth down the rumpled fabric of the other’s navy uniform jumper from where he had been grabbed.

“So,” Jack says as he pats it down and returns his arms to their customary fold across his chest. Does this kid know he’s holding his breath? Jack’s frankly a little concerned. “How long have you been out?”

The noise that comes out of Skywalker takes a moment to release but it isn’t quite human. A mixture between a cough and laugh and oh… Jack thinks he may have hit a nerve there

“I’m not--” Skywalker cuts himself off. Again. He does that a lot, Jack’s noticing. He doesn’t finish sentences.

He doesn’t really answer the question either. Not _what?_ Out? Gay? Well, clearly Skywalker isn’t up for answering right now and Jack knows better than to push on these things – no matter how big of a believer Jack is of people being their true selves.

Instead their conversation takes a different path as Jack is left there with a vague raise of an eyebrow. He watches as Skywalker looks him over for a moment, eyes quite clearly roaming over his body.

“Cold water and soap.” Skywalker says after what feels like an eternity of the two boys struggling to take their eyes off each other. His hand reaches forward, fingers lightly taking the collar of Jack’s school shirt between them. He seems to study it for a moment before releasing the material and shrugging. His eyes come up to find Jack’s, “It’ll get the blood out.”

For a moment, Jack locks eyes with the younger boy.

Blood?

His head tilts down and Skywalker is correct. Spots of blood litter his collar and it’s not his own of course; Jack doesn’t have a scratch on him. That’s nose blood.

“That was a new shirt as well.” Jack sighs, tutting to himself as he looks down and shaking his head. His mother was going to kill him not for the fighting but for ruining a shirt on day one it seemed. “Mind giving me a hand, Skywalker?”

“Give you a hand washin’ up?” Skywalker replies with a raise of his own eyebrow now before glancing back inside the canteen.

Jack follows his gaze to find a group of students. Were they Skywalker’s friends? Some friends if they didn’t stick up for him just now. They’re chatting about things, messing around like every teenager does a lunch. But Jack gets the feeling Ianto doesn’t quite belong with them.

“Guess it’s the least I can do, after that.” He continues, pulling Jack’s train of thought back to the current conversation he was. Jack beams at the younger boy. “Ianto, by the way.” Skywalker quickly adds. Jack blinks for a moment. “Ianto Jones, my name.”

_Ianto Jones._

Oh, that’s a nice name in an even nicer accent.

“Nice to meet you, _Ianto Jones.”_ Jack says with an emphasis on the name simply because he can. He doesn’t like the way it sits so much on his own tongue. The beautiful vowels of the word seem to dissipate within Jack’s own, much harsher, accent. “Lead the way.”

The abandoned jumper and rucksack are finally picked up from the canteen floor and Jack steps to the side, unblocking Ianto from the rest of the school and allowing him to show him towards the bathrooms. He may already have detention, be sporting someone else’s blood on his collar and practically outed himself to anyone within ear shot, but that doesn’t mean he knows where the school toilets are. It’s only been three hours after all.

“Right, yeah, it’s just this way.” Ianto says. Jack catches the way he seems to shake his head in a fonder manner, a small smile on his lips. It suits him.

The two head into the toilets, finding it surprisingly empty for the middle of lunch. He’s seen grottier places and so, without thinking too much, he hops up onto the countertop and places himself between the sink.

“So,” Jack starts, not wasting any time before continuing some form of conversation between them. “What year are you in? I’m not hanging around with a toddler, am I?” He teases, flashing Ianto one of those grins.

Ianto sets his bag on the counter closest to the wall and moves to grab a paper towel. He runs it under the cold tap, adding in the soap as he had instructed just minutes ago.

“Year Eleven.” Ianto answers without looking up from the sink. Jack knows this because his own eyes have not left Ianto’s form for even a second just yet. Bracing his weight with his hands against the edge of the surface, Jack leans forward just enough that Ianto can get to work.

The young Welshman wrings out the excess water from the paper towel and turns to place himself in front of Jack. “American, yeah? So how did you end up ‘ere in South Wales of places?” Ianto asks the question this time. Still, Jack’s eyes don’t leave Ianto in one way or another. Watching his hands work so deftly, against the cotton material.  
  
“Year Twelve.” Jack adds even though he was never asked. It was worth noting, he thinks. For whatever reason… it is just worth noting. Moments later he’s letting out a soft chuckle, head dipping a little as his nationality is finally brought up. “American, yep. The elephant in the room.” He teases good-naturedly. “Dad’s in the Royal Air Force. Captain Franklin Harkness.” Jack continues, now a little more seriously though it’s paired with an over exaggerated salute. “Moved around from base to base all my life. Dad got posted up in St Athan’s a couple weeks ago, we got ourselves some housing in Newport though ‘cause Ma thought this was a better school.”

“Right that _does_ make sense.” Ianto says with a hint of something Jack can’t quite place but he thinks might have been a little teasing in return. It’s hard to tell when Ianto doesn’t say much else in response to Jack’s carried away rambles and simply continues to clean the blood away.

Deep red is continuously blotted at by an experienced hand, soon turning to a pale pink before fading away into little more than an off-colour patch of fabric only noticed by the eye that’s searching for it.

The silence between the two stretches on despite the fact that Jack can _tell_ the younger boy wants to contribute to their conversation. There’s a slight pause to the dabbing, lips part ever so much before closing once again. Defeat was seemingly admitted far too quick for Ianto Jones.

“I’ll drive you home tonight, if you want?” Jack offers once the silence passes a solid two minutes of Jack watching while Ianto shifts on his feet and refuses to meet his imploring gaze.

Although the question seems to gain attention as the welshboy’s head snaps up and brings his eyeline along with it.

“Erm, yeah – why not?” Ianto nods a little as his fingers pull away from the now clean and once again pristine white shirt. “Sure, why not?” He repeats and Jack can’t suppress the puppy-like grin that takes over his features.

He hops off the bathroom counter with a bounce in his step and pulls his school jumper back over his head. Fluffy hair is sent this way and that as he does so, looking rather like he’s been pulled through a hedge backwards. When his face emerges again from the woollen material, he’s still grinning.

The school bell rings out loud and clear; a metallic clanging to signify they need to return to lessons. Jack straightens out the clean collar and swings his backpack onto one shoulder. He heads for the door, pushing it open with his palm.

“Alright, meet me by locker fifteen. See you later, Skywalker!” He calls over his shoulder, flashing that grin one last time before exiting.

If Jack had stuck around just a little bit longer he might have noticed how Ianto simply stands, unable to even correct the whirlwind of an American that, _once again_ , his name is Ianto not Skywalker.

“Oh…” Escapes the young welsh boy but Jack will never hear it.

Jack leaves his final class of the day armed with a mountain of new textbooks that he can add to the pile of _other_ new textbooks he’s received from school after school. He won’t do much with them, he never really has, but the pretence of taking them makes the teachers feel better for the short six months that he often sticks around before his family moves on to their next station.

He’s not alone that afternoon either as he leans against the open locker fifteen in wait. Jack’s caught the attention of a muscly Year Thirteen who goes by the name of…

Erm…

Dean?

Yeah, Dean.

He’s hot.

They’ve been chatting for a while now about workouts of choice. Jack informed Dean that he enjoyed running, Dean clearly favours the bench press if the size of those biceps were much to go off. Together they’ve caught quite the attention from a group of females who are giggling by the girl’s toilets. Jack can’t imagine there’s much remotely humorous about the sound of a distant hand dryer whirring behind the door and they’ve been going for quite a while now despite Jack making absolutely no move to show he’s noticed them.

Oh, he can play along a little. Jack throws a wink and a smile their way; give them something to properly fawn over for a while. As he turns his head away from their gazes to respond to Dean’s question about protein shakes (Jack knows nothing about protein shakes) his attention is caught by someone else entirely.

The young welshboy is walking towards him. Jack sees him falter a little in his step before anything else and so the flirtatious smile directed at his rather attractive company and onlookers’ morphs into something gentle and genuine. It works, he thinks, because Ianto moves a little more forward now and the smile is returned much the same but smaller.

“Hey, sorry-” Ianto starts, cutting himself off. He _always_ cuts himself off like his presence and comments aren’t called for. So Jack laughs. _Kindly._

“Sorry?” He repeats, shaking his head with a short roll of his eyes “Nothing to be sorry for. I was just talking to…” There’s a pause. Name. What’s his name? Jack had been staring too hard at his abs _that you can see through his shirt_ for a name to stick longer than two seconds in his brain. Oh, what he wouldn’t mind— “Dean!” He remembers. “Yeah, Dean. You two know each other?”

“Been going to same school for a while. Hi, Dean.” Ianto says with a nod.

“Alright, Ianto?” Dean greets politely.

Ianto’s gaze turns back to Jack but he seems to get spooked when he finds Jack’s eyes already trained on him. Truth be told, Jack hasn’t looked away since Ianto turned up. It was a habit he was developing with this kid. He’s had him in his sights for approximately twenty minutes of his collective life and around sixteen of those minutes were spent with his eyes trained upon his face.

Not a bad way to spend sixteen minutes…

Jack chuckles and finally relinquishes his gaze.

“Well, you’ll have to excuse us. I promised Ianto a drive home for getting me out of trouble with my Ma.” He explains. Books shift into one arm so he can shut the locker door for emphasis and finally turn his entire attention to the correct guy. “Shall we, Ianto Jones?”

“Right, yeah.” Ianto nods, giving an awkward little wave to Dean.

“See you around, Jack.” Dean says.

“Bye…” Oh dammit why were those abs so loud? “Dean. Bye Dean.”

Jack watches him walk away, immediately accosted by the girls that had been lingering against the ladies bathroom. They seem to bombard him with a chatter of conversation though one or two of their attentions certainly drift to the American in the room. Jack smirks a little when he notices.

“So,” Ianto speaks, catching Jack’s attention so quickly he almost gains whiplash from turning back so fast. “Get in anymore fights on your first day?”

“Oh no, you’re the only person I’ve jumped in front of today.” Jack laughs as they start heading for the exit. His head dips to the floor while he laughs before bringing it back up. “Has to be for a good reason you know? You’ve got to the pick the ones that really deserve it.”

It’s now Ianto’s turn to look to the ground as they walk.

“And that’s me?” He questions, gaze shifting upwards to the older boy with a cute, confused crinkle to his brow. “Right…” He flusters a little. “Thanks again for that.”

“Yes, that’s you.” Jack’s laughing again but he’s not laughing _at_ the welshboy. Not in a cruel manner. His eyes remain soft and his smile genuine but he can’t help the honest melodic laugh that escapes him. “And you can stop thanking me now too. It’s really quite alright.”

The two leave the confines of the school building. Jack shouldering the door open while his hands remain full with textbooks. The walk to the carpark is done in the same silence as the washing of the collar. Not awkward exactly, but could certainly be better.

Jack huffs slightly as books slip from his grip and he has to readjust with the use of his knee before carrying on around the corner.

Now, Jack’s car stands out. A large black SUV style vehicle stands out from the cohort of silver Corsas and Kias. Apparently, he didn’t even need to tell Ianto which car belonged to him.

“You really _are_ American.” Ianto teases. Is that a smirk on his lips? Oh, this revelation has certainly brought him out of that uniformed shell.

Jack pulls his keys from his trouser pocket with his free hand, having to fumble for a second as he leans awkwardly to the right to try and retrieve them with the weight of his text books piled to one side.

“What could you _possibly_ mean, Skywalker?” He asks in fake incredulity, laughing while he does so as he moves onto the next struggle of actually opening the boot of the car. Ianto steps forward smoothly as if on instinct, grabbing hold of the boot handle and opening it for him.

“Big, flashy thing like that?” Ianto says, turning slightly more to face Jack. “May as well ‘ave _American_ emblazoned on the side of it.” He finishes and Jack can’t help but laugh again as he does so.  
  
“Thanks.” Jack says quickly, barely breaking the stride of their actual conversation in order to express his gratitude for help. He dumps his textbooks inside, not caring how they fall or where before stepping back and slamming the lid shut. “And what makes a Welsh car then? How can I blend in better?” He quips, leaning on the roof of his SUV for a moment, one eyebrow raised.

There’s a moment of silence between the two students. Ianto is quite clearly considering the answer to the question while Jack looks upon expectantly.

“Don’t.” Ianto answers with the briefest of smiles. He shrugs and heads towards the passenger side door confidently. “I like it.” He calls back over his shoulder to Jack who is taking a second to understand that.

A smile graces his lips as he stares at the ground where he’s been left. Huh… that was unexpected. Jack chuckles to himself, pushing air through his nose as his shoulders jog briefly before he makes his way to the driver’s side door. He drops inside with a slight groan, reminiscent of an old man who just made the extensive trip from the fridge to his his armchair.

Well, he has physically fought somebody today. He’s allowed to be a little tired.

“Alright,” Jack says as he places the keys into the ignition and glances over to Ianto. “Where do you live? Not in the middle of nowhere, I hope.”

“No, not really, no.” Ianto responds. He doesn’t look up, instead Jack finds his gaze intent on his own hands as they fasten his seatbelt. That changed quick. “The estates not far from ‘ere.” He adds. Jack notices a short pause before a smile pulls onto Ianto’s lips again and he looks up, indicating to the left. “Head that way and I’ll guide you from there.”

Jack clips his seatbelt in with ease and nods in response. Quickly, he connects his phone to his Bluetooth radio. The SUV may be fancy on the outside, but the car is still his first. His parents weren’t about to let their kid run around in a fully-kitted out SUV. Much to Jack’s disappointment, of course. He liked cars with gadgets. Buttons you could press. They were fun!

Once his phone connects and his speakers start blasting some old rock song from the eighties that his father listened to regularly, he chucks it into a cupholder, puts the car in gear and pulls out of the school’s drive.

“Right! Lead the way, Skywalker!” He declares over the music like the two were heading off on some sort of adventure together and not just to the next estate over.

Ianto looks up towards the radio, shaking his with a smile, and seemingly approving of the song choice. Silence is held between the two boys for a while – the two of them seeming quite content to simply bop heads along to the music as Ianto points in the correct direction every so often if conversation doesn’t come.

“So,” Ianto breaks the silence. Jack immediately turns his head to the younger boy. “How often _do_ you move?”

“Difficult question.” Jack admits in a soft tone as his gaze turns back to the view of car bumpers out the window. He leans against his car door as they enter a rush hour traffic jam. One arm rests on the edge of the car window, fingers running through tufts of fluffy hair absentmindedly. “Average? Once a year. We only spent eight weeks in Canada though. But I’ve been all over the USA. Been stationed in Germany… Japan? Last year we came to the UK. Over at RAF Brize Norton. Then we got moved over here, to St Athan’s.” He lists. The traffic moves off again and Jack straightens up. He glances over at Ianto once again, letting out a laugh. “That was more information than you bargained for, wasn’t it? Basically, I’ve been around.”

Jack winks. Innuendo very much intended. Ianto pauses again, his striking blue eyes get seemingly lost in thought before Jack can almost see the cogs in his brain working in reverse to recall everything that was just told to him.

“That’s a lot, yeah?” Ianto shrugs, “Take a right up here.” He interjects before continuing. “Do you _like_ movin’ that often?”

It’s now Jack’s turn to take a moment before answering. In all honesty? His family experience and being a military kid doesn’t get mentioned much further than simply using it as a very successful flirtation device. Military plus a great arse? He could kiss anybody he wanted to at any school dance he attended. Tried and tested.

“I like travelling.” He answers, turning right at the junction. “Seeing the world like this? Most people don’t get that opportunity. I mean, most of the population of Newport have probably never been further than Cardiff.” He points out before a long pause. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course!” Jack back-pedals. “It’s just not… for _me_. _”_

“That is true, I suppose.” Ianto answers before they fall into that silence again. It’s not awkward, it doesn’t pulsate a negative energy around the car and with the music playing over the top, Jack feels quite at ease. The worry that he may have offended the welshboy rolls off him within a few moments. “Left up here.”

Jack does as he’s told with a nod. Silence consumes them again but it’s not left to linger for long. The rock song is cut off mid drum beat and instead replaced with the stereotypical ringtone that everybody within a two-mile radius would assume to be theirs if heard out in the wild.

“Hello, Ma.” Jack answers through the Bluetooth. His eyes glance to the speaker through habit as he drives. What he’s met with, he could never have expected next.

“DETENTION?” An angry, middle aged woman yells down the phone. “ALREADY?”

Jack blushes with such force that the tips of his ears turn pink. One eye squints closed, bracing himself for more. Beside him Ianto looks up with such velocity that Jack is briefly pulled out of his embarrassment to worry that he may have just caused himself whiplash.

Eyes move to him next, Jack spots them even though he’s doing his best to stare out of the window. There’s apology written all over the younger boy’s face.

“Javic.” His mother quieter, but equally as firm. Oh, god. He’s been full-named. “What am I going to do with you?” She sighs. “Get home in one piece and you _better_ have a good explanation when you get home.”

Jack’s eyes dart to Ianto briefly. Yeah. He has a good explanation for it.

“The best, Ma. Honest.” He answers just seconds before the phone line ends with a click.

The car fills with music once again and while his cheeks remain pink, he can’t help but laugh awkwardly. Jack’s body moves forward, head hitting the top of the steering wheel as he laughs. A sigh and he picks himself up a few seconds later.

“Well,” Jack says, “At least we did a good job of getting the blood out.” His chuckles beneath his breath, shaking his head a little.

“Sorry—” Ianto responds, cutting himself off again. “Didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” He says. Jack can feel his eyes on burning into the collar.

“Trust me, when she finds out why I did it? She won’t be mad.” Jack can promise whole-heartedly. It was the speed of the act she seemed most disgruntled about rather than what the act of punching a bully in the face had entailed.

The poor woman was likely just hoping her son could make it one day without drawing attention to himself. But that was hardly the style of Jack Harkness and his mother knows that the best out of anyone.

But that reminds him.

“But, um, maybe don’t let out that I’m a _Javic_ and not Jack? Don’t think it’s good for my image.”


End file.
